


Lingering

by DreamingKate



Category: Glee
Genre: Brainwashing, Hunger Games, Katniss!Kurt, M/M, Mpreg, Peeta!Blaine, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1896549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingKate/pseuds/DreamingKate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine as Peeta and Katniss post Mockingjay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lingering

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt (Contains Spoilers): Could you do a post-Hunger Games Klaine prompt that’s similar to how “Mockingjay” ended? Kurt and Blaine were both champions in the Hunger Games, took part in the rebellion, and now have two boys of their own (one that looks like Kurt with Blaine’s eyes and one that looks like Blaine with Kurt’s eyes) and how Blaine wanted kids, but Kurt didn’t and it took a long time for him to agree to it? (This would be a Kurt mpreg). Thank you! I love your beautiful writing! xoxoxo

Kurt curled up on the window seat with a steaming cup of tea, watching the sun begin to peak up over the mountaintops. Twenty years ago he had been getting dressed in his nicest clothes. Twenty years ago he had lined up with all the boys his age. 

Twenty years ago, he had stood up on a stage with a terrified Blaine.

The Reaping would have been today. The children of District Twelve would have been dressed in their finest clothes and would kiss their parents goodbye. They would all be standing in silence, praying that someone else would get the “honor” of dying.

Griffin was twelve this year. They could have lost their own son. 

At the thought of watching his own boy, Blaine’s dark hair and easy smile with his blue eyes, walking to the stage he felt ill. Having the boys had never been in the plans. After seeing children die, being forced to kill a few in self-defense, he couldn’t imagine having children himself. 

And then sweet Blaine, the boy that had fallen in love with him from across the classroom, finally convinced him to. They had been through the same things, some worse than others. They had both killed, they had both been soldiers. Blaine had been tortured and brainwashed until he was a fractured shell of what he was. 

The memory of hands closing around his throat and furious hazel eyes still made him shiver. 

To make it worse, he had fled from him and hidden away while other’s tried to fix him. He couldn’t handle the cruel words or pure hatred in those eyes. He couldn’t handle it so he ran. 

By some miracle, they had survived. The physical scars were obvious, Kurt’s arm was still a mess of scar tissue and if he looked over to the bed he could see the flat sheet where Blaine’s left leg should be. Worse, were the mental scars that would never fade. Too many nights, he had shot awake in a panic or woken to Blaine’s screams. 

Sudden movements at the bed made him stiffen, hands squeezing around the mug tightly. Blaine startled awake, eyes wide and blank as he stared ahead. 

Kurt couldn’t imagine what Blaine was seeing now. He knew that nightmares and visions lingered in the back of Blaine’s mind as a result of being pumped full of that poison. It was like it left little holes all through his mind and sometimes Blaine would fall into one. His eyes would go blank, his face would go slack, and he would descend into that darkness once again. 

Slowly, Kurt pushed himself up and walked over to the bed. If he touched Blaine, his husband could panic and try to hurt him. It had happened once when little Ramsey was four and Blaine had been devastated for days. The memory of waking up to see his husband gripping their shrieking son’s arm in a bruising grip still haunted Kurt. 

“Are you with me?” He asked softly as soon as Blaine’s eyes began to clear and he nodded shakily, looking dazed. 

“Mmhmm.”

Tentatively, Kurt reached a hand up to smooth down Blaine’s cheek and smiled when the other man turned to look at him fully. Blaine stared into his eyes for a long moment and Kurt could see something dark flicker through them.

“It’s Reaping day,” he whispered and Kurt nodded. “Griffin would be going to his first.”

“Blaine…”

“If we hadn’t been called, we would have both been incredibly poor. One or both of us might have died in the mines,” his voice shook. “They would have had to tesserae. Who knows how many times their names would have been put in there?”

It had been twenty years since names had been called but still Kurt felt an overwhelming fear that someone could come for his sons. 

Bright, happy Griffin could have been sent home in a box. 

“But they’re not,” Kurt said softly. 

“Because of you,” there it was again, that intense overwhelming amount of love in his eyes that Kurt worried he could never reciprocate. “You fought for their future. You fought for the hope that we would have children who lived lives free of fear.”

Kurt didn’t allow himself to hope. He never had. As soon as his name had been called, he had given up hope. When he was training, he had given up hope. When his fingers scraped uselessly along the tube as he was lifted into the arena, he had given up hope. 

Then, a boy he had hardly spoken to risked his life to save him. A boy he had hardly noticed fell in love with him and accepted pretending to be together because he thought it was the best he was going to get. A boy, who had never caught his eye nearly died for him several times, had gone through hell and back and still wanted to be with him. 

Maybe he hadn’t fallen head over heels like Blaine did. He hadn’t felt that rush, like he was falling. Instead, love crept up on him so slowly he hardly noticed it. 

Blaine had given him hope. He had given him hope that he didn’t have to relive the horrors of the Games forever. With two children, despite how much Kurt hadn’t wanted them, he had given him hope in the future. Every time his sons looked at him, he had the hope that somehow he could survive this. 

Kurt was considered the hero of Panem but he knew he could have never done it if a boy who had fallen in love with his song hadn’t been there.


End file.
